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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24392833">Soft Like Cotton</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ranguvar82/pseuds/ranguvar82'>ranguvar82</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Silence and Strength [41]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Good Omens (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Hair, M/M, South Downs Cottage (Good Omens)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 03:08:40</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>632</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24392833</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ranguvar82/pseuds/ranguvar82</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Crowley's hair listened to him, no matter how long it was. Aziraphale's hair...not so much.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Silence and Strength [41]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1630903</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>135</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Soft Like Cotton</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Soft Like Cotton</p><p> </p><p>HEAVEN, ONCE UPON A TIME</p><p> </p><p>Aziraphale runs his fingers through his hair, a frown of consternation on his face. It’s not working! He wanted so much for this surprise for Zophiel to work, and instead, it’s backfired. Aziraphale adores how long his love’s hair is, loves braiding it and running his fingers through it when they kiss. He wants to give Zophiel the chance to do the same thing, so he’s used a <b>very small</b><span> miracle to make his hair longer. He’s expecting it to grow like Zophiel’s, for it to simply be, well, longer. </span></p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Instead it looks like he’s wearing a cloud on his head. His hair is, well, poofy. That’s the only way he can describe it. It had been somewhat tame until it got past his shoulders, then all of a sudden: POOF. Literally. He’s tried every hair taming miracle he can think of, but they only serve to make his already cloud hair even more cloud like and poofier. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>“<span>Trying something new, Dove?” Zophiel has come up behind him, slipping his arms around his waist and nuzzling at the poof. “I have to say, it suits you.”</span></p><p> </p><p>“<span>I look horrid! My hair’s all...poofy! I was trying to grow it out so you could braid it but it didn’t work and now I look like I got zapped by a lightning bolt!” Aziraphale wails, and Zophiel chuckles, turning the smaller angel in his arms so he’s looking into his eyes. </span></p><p> </p><p>“<span>Aziraphale. Dove. Angel. You look like you always do, which is fucking gorgeous. You could shave your head and dye it purple and I would still think you were the most breathtaking being in all of Creation.” He lifts Aziraphale’s hair in his hands. “ ‘Sides, I like your hair like this. Feels all soft and warm, just like you.” </span><span>He buries his nose in the cotton softness, sighing. “Smells like you too.” </span></p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale sighs. “I just...wanted to try something different.” He examines himself in the magically conjured mirror. “You know...it doesn’t look so bad, now that I think about it. Maybe I’ll keep it, just for a bit.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>“<span>Great idea.” </span></p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A COTTAGE, NOW </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale grins as he examines himself in the mirror. After Crowley’s Casting Out, and his Memory Wipe, he had always kept his hair the same length. But now he was ready to make a change he hadn’t made in literal centuries. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale gestures, and his hair starts to grow. When it gets past his shoulders, it begins to poof out. Instead of trying to fix it, though, he keeps going. He doesn’t want it as long as Crowley’s, because there’s a line between looking like a cotton ball and looking like one hasn’t groomed oneself in, well, ever. He waves his hand, and the poof travels upward, making it look like he’s got feathers on his head. Once his hair reaches about two inches past his shoulders he stops. Another quick gesture and he’s got red streaks. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He hears the door open. Crowley’s back from his signing lessons at the school(Aziraphale had been over the moon when he told the angel about them). “I’m in the bedroom, love!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Crowley comes in, eyes going wide at the sight that greets him. His angel’s hair is in a lovely poof. It looks like feathers, and the red streaks are doing funny things to Crowley’s insides. Satan, but he loves this angel. The demon comes closer, and Aziraphale smiles. “I...thought maybe it was time for, well, a change. You remember when I had my hair like this?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Crowley nods, then reaches out and ruffles Aziraphale’s head. The angel laughs, batting away his hand. “Crowley!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Crowley pulls him into an embrace. ‘Soft. Cottony. Keep it like this?’ </span>
</p><p> </p><p>“<span>I had planned on it.” </span></p>
  </div></div>
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